Burdened
by RatherBeAWriter
Summary: In the quiet that follows Mr Scratch's final attack, Emily and Spencer find that even when the physical danger is gone, the weight on their minds remains. Post Wheels Up (Season 13 Ep 1) one shot.


**A/N: I'm a sucker for a hurt/comfort moment and also like the fic opportunities that come with Emily's role as boss, so when my internet went down the day after I watched "Wheels Up" I started playing with this idea. As always, comments are appreciated.**

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 _No matter how much you are hurting right now you know that everything will change in time. Let me carry your burden – Burden – Foy Vance_

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She had seen good people die before. She had seen colleagues die before. She had seen friends die before. And she had felt responsible.

But never like this.

Each time her heavy eyelids blinked she replayed a different interaction with Stephen. She saw herself pushing him closer to Scratch and further from his family. She watched the investigation unfold through new eyes that viewed every step towards success as a step towards loss. The montage always culminated in the sight of headlights and the spinning of the SUVs. Stephen disappeared and was replaced by the image of Hotch standing outside his office and looking down towards the bullpen, where the rest of the team worked at their desks. His stern expression seemed to penetrate the haze of her lucid dream and strike straight through to reality.

None of them had died under his watch.

"Did you really need me to stay with you?"

"What?"

Slowly, Emily drifted from her chaotic thoughts and back to the quiet hospital room. The real hospital room, with its sanitized but airless atmosphere that no delusion or hallucination could ever fully replicate.

She wasn't the only one who was struggling.

Spencer was perched on the edge of a chair beside her bed, periodically rubbing his eyes. Whether the action was from fatigue, nervous habit or something else, she didn't know. He was more difficult to read than he'd ever been and far less predictable. It was going to take time for him to re-adapt to a non-institutionalised world. However, what was clear was that now that he was back with the team, he wasn't going anywhere.

"Of course I did," Emily responded, answering the question which she had managed to hear, even if her brain hadn't been quick enough to process it immediately.

She straightened up in bed, turning towards him and taking a sharp intake of breath as the movement reminded her body of just what it had been through. Spencer immediately leaned forward, his hands pressing gently on her arm to encourage her to stay still as his worried frown deepened. She was grateful that the adrenaline had protected her for long enough to get away from Scratch but once it had worn off the sensation was like being hit by a truck all over again.

She settled and his intensified concern retreated back to a look of mild anxiety.

"You weren't just keeping me away from him?"

Emily smiled slightly, almost relieved that Spencer's perception was still sharp enough to pick up on the duality in her motive. Of course there had been an element of trying to protect Reid in asking him to stay with her rather than letting him chase after Scratch. The additional damage that the confrontation could have caused, both personally and professionally, was not a risk she had been willing to take. She would make no secret of that.

"I needed you but I also have a responsibility to look after you in the field."

Her stomach flipped as she was hit with a fresh pang of guilt at her failure to do just that for Stephen. She felt like a coward for not yet having faced Monica.

"It wasn't your fault," Spencer assured her, in a quiet voice.

Beyond the mask of trauma, he was making all the right connections. Slowly, but surely, he would become himself again.

"It wasn't yours either," she responded, recognising the unease in his lost expression.

She gave in to her tired eyes as her mind drifted with the end of their brief conversation. Neither of them was feeling particularly talkative and while she couldn't force her mind to sleep, she could try to rest.

She hadn't fought the paramedics when they had arrived to take her to the hospital. Her blood pressure and heart rate were too high, they told her. She had signs of a possible concussion and they suspected that a number of different drugs were still in her system. Not to mention that she had been clinging to Reid with all her strength to remain upright. It would have been irresponsible if she hadn't received proper medical attention.

Irresponsible was something she couldn't afford to be. Not now. Not when Rossi had been trying to leave the hospital so soon after surgery, and Tara had been insisting she would be back on her feet in a few days, and JJ had been moving from one bedside to the other despite her own injuries.

She had led by example and allowed the doctors to take her blood and give her medication. She had let them attach her to monitors and admit her to the hospital for observation without a word of protest. Eventually, Rossi had changed back into his hospital gown, and Tara had settled down, and JJ had let Will take her home.

There were reasons that protocols existed, both for the bureau in respect of its agents and the hospital in respect of its patients. She didn't used to see that. Hotch did. Most of the time.

Mr Scratch might be dead but there was still so much to be done.

They all needed to be properly de-briefed and she would need to meet with the Director.

There would probably be an investigation into Peter Lewis's death. Luke shouldn't be speaking to anyone else about what had happened until they knew how thorough that investigation was going to be.

Monica – she should visit her and they should send flowers. Or would something so ordinary as sending flowers seem like an insult coming from those so closely connected to his death?

And the funeral…

 _"Stephen."_

"Emily."

She jerked awake.

Reid was on his feet now, standing over her with a hand on her shoulder and another worried frown etched deep across his face. Her first semi-coherent thought was to wonder if he would ever look at ease again.

"You were talking in your sleep," he explained.

"I was?" she mumbled, becoming aware of how hard and fast her breaths were coming.

"You need to relax," he continued, knowing from experience just how useless those words were but also how important it was to try.

It took a few moments for her to be fully oriented to her surroundings and for her breathing to fall back into a steady pattern.

Reid was sitting on the edge of the chair again, with an expression as precarious as his position. The endless days spent in prison seemed like another life now. The distance was good and came with a relief that he was no longer there. But he knew that he wasn't quite himself. He blinked hard and rubbed his eye again, forcing his sight to focus on one particular scuff mark on the vinyl floor.

"I don't know how to do this."

It was Emily's turn to puzzle Spencer with a remark that was devoid of context, except in her head. If she hadn't been so exhausted it would never have been said out loud.

"To do what?"

"To lead this team. Hotch never made it look this hard."

She was thinking of the situations they had survived under his lead. Reid's ordeal at the hands of Hankel, Garcia's shooting, JJ's abduction. Even her own "death" and return to the BAU. Hotch hadn't been perfect but the bar was set high and so far she couldn't help but fear that she wasn't coming close.

Spencer's silent and thoughtful pause only fuelled her doubt, but it wasn't a doubt he shared.

"Hotch didn't do it alone," he said at last. "You can't do it alone either."

For the second time in recent memory, Spencer's words of wisdom caused the hint of a smile to ghost over her lips. If only he could see how his advice applied to his own situation. For someone so intelligent he could often miss the obvious.

"That goes for you too, you know," she replied.

He mirrored her smile for a second before returning his gaze to the floor and practising keeping his focus steady. Tonight, after everything the day had brought with it, the sense of trauma was as raw as the first days following his arrest.

She watched him for a few moments, hoping his smile would last longer the next time she saw it, before her mind turned back to what the next days and weeks would bring from the team. Scratch had broken them down, physically and mentally, but she had to believe that the worst was over.

She thought of the mantra which had kept her going when nothing around her was making sense.

 _"Wheels Up."_

There would always be uncertainty and there would always be hurt.

But they were fighting for each other and none of them had to carry their burden alone.


End file.
